


Juice

by ChingKittyCat



Category: Hoshi no Kaabii | Kirby: Right Back at Ya!, Kirby - All Media Types
Genre: Body Horror, Body Modification, Demon Blood, For Me, Gen, Graphic Description, Literally just me self indulging in body horror, Magic and Science, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 00:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15807384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChingKittyCat/pseuds/ChingKittyCat
Summary: Sipp.-Rated Teen for hot, explicitly detailed Capri-Sun action. Substance to potential, major change in the future.[Fic Art]





	Juice

   It'd been long and quiet in the command center. Just attending to daily things, ordering people around, ordering things around, supervising, dealing with one certain special customer assigned to him at a time, nothing was out of the ordinary. Well, nothing would've been out of the ordinary had he worked alone. But Customer Service never exactly worked by himself, he worked under the direct supervision of his boss.

   Who wasn't there at the moment.

   Now, there were plenty of reasons why his boss might've been gone. He himself had been on the end of personally tracking down the eldritch wizard during his 'breaks'.

   He'd find the guy still in bed, which was usually more than often not the case. For a wizard of dreams, he was.. Well, sleep-oriented, as one would expect. Then there'd be other times where he'd grow bored of looming in the shadows behind CS and just go out and terrorize some of the big cheeses that these levels of the fortress contained.

   Maybe he'd go around firing people using actual fire, or went to go see how those science-made monster projects were going. CS once caught him in the literal torture rooms that hadn't been used since the war, actually torturing somebody. Straight up treating someone like a middle school science lab project for the first time in actual decades.

   There was that other time he'd found his boss literally clipped through a wall due to a faulty teleport. Which, compared to all the other things, was a tad bit more underwhelming.

   So imagine his surprise when the big evil wizard appeared suddenly in the command center, and was looking rather.. Different. CS swiveled his seat around to see the big guy with his cape wrapped around himself as per the usual, but there was one thing that was rather off; his face.

   eNeMeE was made of metal, a steel most things could not scratch, much less puncture. He'd seemed to sustain no real injury, but this time around he looked like he was sweating bullets. This 'sweat' was made of metal, and it dripped from chin and jawline, onto the floor in large metallic colored globs. The wizard groaned, which only heightened the salesman's interest in speaking.

   "You look absolutely awful."

   Was the great introduction that CS thought up. Big blankey shot a glower down at him, causing more metal 'sweat' to pool on the end of his chin.

   "Maybe a bit of-"

   "Yeah, I feel like I should take out how awful I feel on you, little guy. You know what happened?"

   The universal tyrant's rhetorical question was met with an answer. A shy bit of a shake of head, which encouraged him to continue in that weird, horrible voice that he had.

   "The smart guy, Hellman, whatever his name is. Egg? Egg guy. He's got a purple- whatever. He invited me down to go check out the robots, and he decided 'oh I'm going to show off my invention that destroys magical creatures made of magic to this wizard made of magic because that's a smart thing, yes I think I'll do that'. So he brings out this, this robot, and he asks me to spawn a monster, which I did, and this robot went and shocked the thing, but the idiot didn't turn it off, so it ended up turning around and shocking me too, and now I'm dripping magic all over the place."

   As he's explaining this whole story, the wizard went from cape closed to cape opened, waving his hands around in quite the cartoonish fashion. Like he was really trying to emphasize what happened through the motion. There, CS noticed, his hands were also dripping much like his face was.

   "Did you fire him?" CS personally enjoyed 'Hellman', the guy was a little self absorbed at times, but he was nice to have a conversation with.

   "No, I tossed him in the fear box and then came here. I would've normally fired him, but I guess I'm in a good mood today. If you asked me what I would do, right now, while I'm all drippy like this, I would kill him. Absolutely. Because this is awful. It feels disgusting."

   eNeMeE's complaints were not few and far between, but this was the first time he'd ever complained about something that was.. Well, a physical problem. Usually it'd be about how bored he was or how much money sucked, or about how talking to people about business and figures he didn't understand was the worst thing in the universe, but never about being sick.

   Never about showing weakness, or admitting to something making him physically feel bad.

   Whether it was because those situations just never came up or CS was just trusted enough to have his boss lower is godly pride around him, the salesman would probably never know.

   "If you feel bad, might I suggest calling it in early and going to bed?"

   eNeMeE pulled his cape back around himself at the suggestion, settling down as he took what his babysitter said into consideration.

   "But that's boring. I don't want to be bored."

   CS swore this guy was a literal manchild. How he got anything done, ever, when he was on his own, was beyond him. A moment of silence stood between them before eNeMeE submitted. He did so with a groan.

   "Fine."

   He grumbled, then flicked his cape over him and disappeared. He'd splattered his metal all over the floor in a spray as he did so, leaving more globs than he would've gotten had he just floated away.

   CS scrunched his nose at all the.. What, flesh? Flesh on the floor. It was eNeMeE's flesh and blood all over the floor. Sure, it didn't look revolting, but the idea of having blood all over his floor, magic or not, was not one he loved.

   Just as he was about to call a janitor, he watched as the globs turned from the metal coloring and texture of his boss's face to something different. It was something akin to a vibrantly dark purple nail polish, full of sparkles and glitter. It's glistening little specks of white looked like stars in and of themself. But eNeMeE had said it himself, that was his magic. A glob of liquid magic.

   CS paused momentarily, before giving up on the idea of calling a janitor. Why call a janitor when this could be used for something else? He knew of at least two people who'd probably take some interest in this..

   Juice.

* * *

   "Is this all there is?"

   Dr. Damu, a doctor who's looks took after the late Dr. Moro, examined the mason jar full of the nail-polish-esque liquid. Behind his square anime glasses was probably some sort of dissatisfaction with the amount CS was able to procure without scooping it up in his hands like an animal.

   "I gave a jar to some of the people working on the Dieu-orb project upstairs. They've needed some of you-know-who's magic for an awful long time now. You're lucky to get any."

   There's a drawling slur of grumbles from Damu, as he pulled his lip momentarily above ever-shifting teeth. From a normal omnivore teeth to something more animatedly sharp and villainous. The subtle frayed wire sparking from within the room made the whole display somewhat more unsettling.

   "Something wrong?" CS asked like he was oblivious to the obvious disdain Damu contained.

   "Those people upstairs don't understand what it's really like to be a bio-engineer, they're all about their filthy robots. You ask me, I should've been head of that project, rather than that pink-haired-"

   "Now," CS put his hands up infront of himself before going over to put one on Damu's shoulder, "lets not get ahead of ourselves. I'm just doing my job for the company, same as you, same as them."

   "I'm much more qualified for the project than they ever were!"

   Now this was just an entire tangent on its own that was just completely unrelated to what CS had come down here for. He was just here deliver this juice to the guy who'd probably be interested then leave before eNeMeE got bored of trying to sleep and decided to show back up in the command center.

   CS just grinned and beared it. He got the feeling he should let go of Damu's shoulder, so that's exactly what he did.

   "They're out there making life when they should be making toaster ovens! Making life is my job! Looking at this," Damu shook the jar of glittery liquid he was holding, "and making life or putting it into people to see what it does it is my job! Not theirs!"

   "Well, we can't have all the glory, now can we?"

   Dr. Damu gave CS the best glare he could from behind his glasses before stomping off through the laboratory towards what could only be some sort of special centrifuge. Or, at the very least, something that appeared to be in the same loo of a centrifuge.

   Figuring that to be his cue to get out before anything happened, CS took his opportunity to leave politely as swiftly as possible.

   "No, hey, how about you come here. You don't have anything else to do. Come watch some real science."

   The emphasis on real from the doctor's slurring voice implied a sort of superstition for anything else. Like real science was one that literally dealt with a magic goo that dripped off of an eldritch demon made of fear and darkness. Okay.

   "You know, I'd love to, but I actually do have a job and things to do right now. Being away from the center for more than a couple minutes-"

   "Oh yes, yes, oh, sorry, mister high and mighty has things to see and wizards to suck off."

   The insult was absolutely unprecedented. CS had done nothing to provoke it, at least not in his sunglass-shaded eyes. The attempt on his pride didn't exactly land, but it did highly perplex him. Why was Damu taking his wanting to get back to work to heart? Perhaps it was something due to the slur in his voice and the aggravation in general. Few things caused both of those at the same time.

   "I beg your pardon?"

   He wasn't offended, no, at least not on the outside. He kept up that signature happy tone of his. Damu did not pick up on the fakeness of it all, and set the jar of magic into the machine before coming back for the next.

   "You're pardoned. Now learn something for once in your life and see what I do with this stuff, mister suit and tie."

   Considering the rudeness of the doctor, he wasn't going to do that.

   "Again, I'd love to, doctor suit and lab coat. But I need to get back to work. I came down here myself to make sure this stuff didn't get into the hands of someone incompetent. That's all. I have things to do."

   "And wizards to suck off." Damu said plainly, picking up the other jar.

   "And clients to talk to."

   CS's correction took every single ounce in his body to not make sound sassy or forceful. Politeness was key with anyone he talked with, because everyone was a moron who needed to be handled with kid gloves. Even if they had supposed PHDs or literal war tyrants.

   Damu's expression soured more than it'd already held during this conversation, and he put the jar back onto the metal lab table that it'd been on before he'd picked it up. CS, through the opaqueness of his glass, looked around with a hint of desperation. This looking around rather than focusing on Damu brought CS to see a couple things.

   The tubes of distilled liquids with strange things in them, the test tubes that piled on tables, the sink full of dishes stained with all sorts of revolting colors, and one more thing. A malfunctioning security camera with a couple fringed wires, ones that sparked. Near to under the camera was shattered glass with an unknown chemical pooled under. Said chemical was also splattered all over the wall.

   All in all, the place was a wreck, and it being a wreck had also resulted in an entire camera being on the fritz.

   There were security cameras outside the room, though, as well as other people. If this turned violent, he'd have to do what he knew best. For now, he'd still his nerves and watch Damu's language through his body the best he could.

   "You really think you're all that, aren't you? You couldn't care less about what I want."

   Damu pointing accusingly, his nail shifting in length and sharpness towards CS's face. Not only that, but the doctor's hair was beginning to friz up like there was static in the air. Stand on end, like a cat.

   "Fine, fine, if that's what you want."

   CS waved his hands out infront of himself once more to try and deescalate the whole thing. That submission was enough to get Damu to grasp the jar again, and let him return to the normal state of not looking like a puffed up cat. Why he was so adamant about CS watching this whole experiment would probably still escape him, but his gut instinct told him to not trust this situation one bit.

   So as he followed Damu, he grasped a test tube off of one of the little wooden holders ontop a table and slid it behind his back. It'd stun the guy, maybe for a couple of seconds at most. A couple of seconds would be all this salesman needed to get the heck out of there if things went south in any sort of comprehension of the word.

   The two moseyed on over to the machine, CS staying a respectable distance away for his own protection. Damu didn't seem to mind that, he just wanted CS in the room to see this.

   Placing the extra jar down on the adjacent table to this odd machination, Damu flipped the thing on. There was the sound or something being drilled, perhaps glass, before the rings of the machine began to spin around the jar. Admittingly, CS wasn't all too familiar with this sort of scientific engineering, it really could be doing absolutely anything.

   "This machine analyzes substances, tells us their composition among other things."

   Oh, guess that's what it did. Well, the rings slowed to a stop, and a screen appeared from the floor to raise itself up to Damu's level. He looked at the results, sounded inquisitive through a murmur, then tapped a couple of things on the screen.

   "..Is that all?"

   CS tried to avoid sounding impatient, but this entire situation had offset him a while ago, and he really just wanted to leave.

   "Not exactly, no. There's one more thing."

   The machine dinged, and out came a syringe filled with the nail polishy goop. Damu picked it up, squirted a little bit out of the tip just to make absolutely sure it could get out. A small string of purple liquid trailed down the metallic needle in a somewhat threatening manner.

   "I certainly hope you're not planning on sticking yourself with that."

   When Damu turned around to show off how much he was absolutely not going to stick himself with that, CS came to an instantaneous solution, grasping further onto the tube he'd kept behind his back.

   "No, no I do not plan to stick myself with it. You know, I really hate you pig corporate brow-noses, able to g-"

   Damu was interrupted by a test tube being literally chucked into his face. CS knew this monologue was going to lead to him getting poked by that syringe, so he had to take proactive action. Because as nice as getting a shot sounds, he'd rather it be with a vaccine rather than magic blood that came from the wizard of darkness and fear.

   Damu stumbled back before growling, gaining his bearings rather quickly. CS, of course, had already made for the door, and Damu was quick enough to chase after. Due to the doctor's bigger stature and longer stride because of that height, as well as apparent more exercise he was able to not only catch up, but tackle the salesman.

   CS would've made it out had they not been push on the outside and pull on the inside. They were especially heavy doors, so getting out meant sacrificing time to pulling one of them open. He wasn't the strongest of people, so of course that meant his escape was hindered. His physical ineptitude meant he was pinned to the ground, belly down. Door handle ripped from his grasp.

   But that didn't stop him from yelling, because there were undoubtedly other people who could help him outside.

   "I'm being assaulted!"

   He could feel Damu's form changing on him, the long and more monstrous claws tore a long line in the back of his suit as well as the undershirt he wore, revealing skin that hadn't seen the sun since he was born, probably. This violation of clothes would certainly be going on Damu's record, if CS lived to write that down in there.

   Just as predicted, he felt that large needle jab into him carelessly, like hitting a blood vein didn't exactly matter to what was going on. He made an overtly loud cry of pain, forcing himself to yell as miserably and pathetically as possible to attract more attention if he could.

   "You assholes in your high chairs don't know anything about pain and suffering! You don't have friends ever taken from you because none of them are ever sent out to be killed or sold like farm animals!"

   CS was really no match for Damu's brute strength. The guy literally had a more monstrous form that at least doubled his physical abilities, and even then, he'd probably be able to keep CS and all of his struggles down without the use of that form.

   Either way, despite his flailing and scratching, he could feel a sudden insurgence of something, something into his flesh. His muscles, oh did they singe. It was the sensation of holding one's hands underneath boiling water, but being unable to rip them away for whatever reason. It crawled underneath his flesh like beetles, and spread out like them too. It pulsed and surged as more of his back gave into this sizzling water, and he most certainly did not stay his scream as more and more of him was consumed by it. This time, they didn't need to be fake.

   "You sold and murdered my friend! The least you can do is be a guinea pig!"

   Damu's accusations fell upon ears unfocused. CS had bigger problems at the moment, like trying to get away from the syringe, and from this guy who was forcing all this stuff into his body.

   Thankfully for him, his wails of agony didn't fall upon the same unfocused ears, and a two aliens burst through the door, taking a moment to see the entire situation, then began their own struggle with getting Damu off. Telling from the near insignificant absence of the needle on CS's back, they'd been rather successful, and then even moreso when Damu's weight was pushed off.

   But that damage apparently had already been done, and the boiling sensation of water under his skin did not fade whatsoever. It spread across his spine and over his shoulders to his collar, crossing to his chest as he scrambled away as much as possible.

   Tears had pricked in what would probably be his eyes as it moved part of the way to his neck before stopping. The rest of it transferred down into his arms and fingers, as well as his little purple legs. Just then, the singe seemed to die, or at least lessen. It gave him a moment to focus through the pain to see the two lizard-like aliens trying to get Damu down.

   "Knock him out already, I'm burning!! Something's happening to me, get me to a doctor now!!"

   CS's command was taken, and the two lizards busied themselves with beating the fight out of Damu.

   This moment was spent looking down at himself for any burns he might've sustained, if it wasn't just his nerves playing tricks on his brain. A look down at his hand sported one particular sight. A boil. A revolting bubble of irritated red skin, one which conglomerated and rapidly filled with something and only grew larger as he stared at it. Instead of a whiteness like normal boils, what came from them was a darker, deeper color, like his skin was bruised. What further sickened him was the sight that smaller boils were beginning to form themselves too, and in an increasing amount across both of his hands.

   CS's disgusted gasp only culminated in shaking hands and a furrowed brow as he tried not to look at these growing bubbles. They just kept coming up, like his flesh was a pot of water ontop of the stove. Only the bubbles didn't pop.

   Well, they didn't pop for a little while.

   Then they started popping left and right, spreading an inky pure black oil across him, which stung to his nerves like stomach acid did to one's mouth after vomiting. He shook at his hands like they were just wet with water, but as soon as those boils popped, they stained him with their acid as swiftly as they possibly could. What truly horrified him was that he was getting this sensation all over his body, not just the parts he could see.

   Then, something additional happened. A sensation in his spine, the feeling of a snap. The noise and sudden painlessness in the small lower body he had, and the paralyzation in his legs could only mean one thing. This substance, this magic, whatever it was doing, it was destroying his body. As if that wasn't already clear from the moment it was injected and how his hands were being burned, the additional destruction of his spine was clear cut answers.

   "I'm dying!! You morons, help me!!"

   The lizards were quick to answer to that, smashing Damu into the metal ground and hurrying back over to help this guy in whatever way they could. One picked him up and rushed him out of the room as quickly as they possibly could. His panic wasn't quelled, though, because through his painlessness in the bottom of his being, he could see his feet rot away into pure tar without feeling any of it.

   Yeah, no, that's going to be traumatic. The dude carrying him dropped him as he got that foot tar all over their hands and clothes, and they were pretty quick to scream in horror alongside him as it happened. What was left of his only physical mode of transformation had turned into a puddle on the ground, so yeah, maybe doing a banshee impression was most appropriate.

   CS hitting the floor caused him to somewhat fall in the stuff, which actually made his body absorb it. Like he was a sponge and his now legless torso was there to soak it all up. Not only did he soak up all this oil, but all the boils apparently on his back burst at once because of the impact, causing a flood of excess black through his suit and onto the floor. But it didn't stay on the ground. Like it had a mind of its own, it literally leapt back onto him and soaked in the fabric and strings of his clothes.

   Then the oil spread onto it, dying it into the same terrible color as his skin. His suit flattened and somewhat deflated, and a pressure of something very tight constricting him spread into his already overloaded nerves. As if he wasn't hyperventilating already, this was more than enough.

   But for whatever reason, whatever reason, he wasn't dying or passing out. Even though he wanted to so desperately to close his eyes and see nothing and feel nothing, something kept him awake. Awake to watch, awake to feel, and awake to view as the bottom of his body sprouted a new appendage. A black tail, one which was more of a snake's than anything. It pulsed with life and dancing horizon-at-dawn-esque colors that dyed back into the black of a beaten back night that was undoubtedly his stomach.

   Some part of him strained, what felt like his back as it snapped back into place then out of it again as the tail grew and elongated, more and more. It was becoming apparent that at the end of the tail there was a slit down the middle, one that traveled further and further up, much slower than the new thing grew. Whatever it indicated, hopefully it wasn't anything nasty.

   Alongside this tail, it was becoming apparent to him that his entire body was now the same color. His suit had become all black, and he couldn't see any of its creases anymore. The tightness had faded, and honestly it felt like he was wearing nothing. Well, nothing except for sulfuric acid.

   At this point, he was picked back up, much to the other lizard's disgust and horror at CS's state.

   He'd scratched at himself, finding his fingers quite marginally different. They more resembled the talons of a hawk, but with the same anatomy as before. The underneaths of his hands were more pompous in their roundness, and his nails had outgrown themselves to be more sharp and rounded out underneath. One key difference was that they didn't have the same texture as nails, they were just as dark as his skin.

   His panicked squirms came in intervals. When his spine would snap and break, then remake itself perfectly, he'd flail that new tail of his around like it was no one's business. He wanted to escape, to get all this 'acid' off of him, but no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't get it off. This caused him to be dropped again, which upon hitting the floor, felt like his lungs were full of something. He coughed and hacked like it was how he breathed, he choked until he spat up a tooth onto the ground.

   "Oh."

   He managed, looking at the yellow tinted tooth that clearly hadn't come from his gums. He continued, the teeth scraping through his neck as he forced them out. If there was blood being drawn he couldn't tell. What he could very obviously tell was that he was clearly being sliced along the inside of his throat. Both by the root and by their ends, which were remarkably sharp.

   He could feel it getting harder and harder to breathe as he continued, and he held at his still somewhat pale-skinned neck with his new hands, giving off the sign that he was indeed being choked. The lizard was so perplexed but got down, and shakingly picked him up, arms around the chest, and gave him a nice bear hug. Or, if you'd like to get technical, a Heimlich.

   More teeth came for him and into a pile on the floor. The lizard must've realized that they couldn't just stick around here, they needed more help. So, it kept walking, not stopping to help CS vomit up inhuman teeth. They had places to be, and the bear hug could be activated while moving. So, there's going to have to be a trail of teeth for the janitor to clean up. Whoops.

   As they continued their travel, the tail stopped growing, and the slit down his middle had reached to his torso. As it embarked further upwards, past his stomach, a new bodily mutation occurred. CS would've screeched in pain at his collarbones shattering and evaporating in his body, alongside some other shoulder bones, but he was kinda busy with the whole teeth river coming out of him.

   His wide shoulders reduced into literally nothing, and his arms moved inwards as his chest reduced and sucked itself in as the slit moved up it. Call this salesman scared, but he was scared. No, yeah, he was terrified. This entire thing seemed rather fatal. No, not just fatal, permanent. It was an agonizing process that'd probably taken a couple of minutes now already to reach this point, what else was there?

   As the slit moved up towards his neck, the teeth stopped coming out. Their production, it seemed, to have halted entirely in its tracks. He breathed and shivered, groaning and still coughing at the feeling of the roots of those bones digging into the insides of him.

   The burning sensation on his body was seeming to fade, thank the Stars. The burning sensation, and that only. What didn't fade was the adjustment to his bones, that seemed to be an ongoing thing. The next that came was the new alignment of his elbows and the additional calcium being sucked from him to create something else. Long spikes of flesh just speared themselves out from the back of his elbows to create a odd hook.

   The slit finally moved up past his neck and to the end of chin. With nowhere else to go, it stopped. And that was all.

   Then his chin, throat, and the upper half of his chest split open along the split's seam to reveal a mouth cavity full of rib-like teeth and a long silver tongue ontop of a background of a cyan inside. The tongue lulled out, spitless, pushing against the yellowed bones.

   CS, finally feeling better from all the burning and vomiting of teeth, found this development to be enraging. Horrifying, yes, but it lit up the gasoline tanker that was his repressed anger. From this, his form swelled in mass and height, until he was larger than the two foot lizard alien who was carrying him.

   "That doctor thinks he can do this to me and get away with it!?"

   He snapped as he found purchase on the ground, lifting himself up with newfound strength in his vastly mutated snake-like body. He growled and headed off, back past through the trail of teeth that had ended just a little ways ago. He was going to show that man a piece of his mind. No, not just a piece of his mind, he'd do more than just that.

   His slithering body hit against the corridor's walls on occasion, not caring of who or what was in the way as he returned back to the laboratory he'd tried so hard to escape from before. On his way back, though, he'd encountered something. Something he probably would've ran full speed away from in the past, but now that he was in some newer form, he found robust courage against.

   In his way was a Fire Lion, a creature of the wizard's design. Something made of magic, the same magic he'd been injected with. It's existence drove his animosity as he steadied himself into a stance of launch. His strike was great, as he grasped onto the big cat before it even had much time to observe what exactly it was seeing.

   It howled and dragged its claws against him, but its fire was entirely ineffective against the new oil-colored hide of his body. He wrapped himself around it, claws to maul, rip, and tear. The slit of his chest-mouth opened moreso as he forced it in towards his teeth, to stab at it with the multitude he had there. To finish it off even more quickly.

   As he stabbed, as he bit harshly into it, it felt like he was drinking something. Like he'd punctured the lion's blood and consumed it like a vampire, but that wasn't the case. In his hazed mind, he recalled these lions didn't have blood, they were inorganic. Made of magic, yes, they were made of magic. But now, now his body was made of magic too.

   He was drinking the life out of this lion. The magic that sustained it. It just felt like a completely natural thing too, like drinking juice out of a juice box. It just came to him like simple logic. See water in a water bottle? Screw off the cap, take a sip. See a Fire Lion? Wrap your body around it, squeeze it, then open up your chest mouth and suck out all of its juices.

   He literally just slurped it right up. Until all the fire, as well as the lion, was gone. Like it was a bubble of coffee left on a clean desk left around someone who was particularly parched.

   It didn't taste particularly bad either, but that's mostly because he couldn't taste anything through his chest mouth, despite there being a tongue down there. His desire for doctor butchering was interrupted by some more teeth sprouting through the bottom of his chin, but that was about it. Then, after that fiasco was done, he continued. All the way until he found the doors again and forcefully squished his was through.

   The other lizard was still there, as well some other people. Seems like the scaly was trying to explain the situation before CS literally burst the door off of its hinges and pushed himself in with his claws. His size upturned tables and crunched glass. Of course his presence was met with the appropriate terror and what not, which he appreciated, but his mind was focused on one thing.

   Damu was on the ground, knocked out. So, CS took this time to really think. Really run all the stuff through his mind, all the memories. All the good times, the bad times. Nah, not really.

   His claws raked the ground, and with one outstretched arm he placed his claws above Damu then pulled them back, slicing him into four separated ribbons. Then, he left, with a chorus of disorganized screams behind him.

   He had things to do. CS, CS had things to do. He needed to get money. He needed to do his job. He needed to do something, find money, get money somehow. What better way to get money than to convince people to hand it over. He'd trade their lives for their money. Now that, that sounded like a proper and fine idea, one that brought a truly cattish smile to his face.

   He pushed from the ground up to a nice perch with his claws, moving with the speed of an angry viper to find whoever was around, his mind vetoing the people in the lab he'd exited in exchange for some people who'd rubbed him wrong. Some people who'd tested his patience, others who were just generally obnoxious.

   The kitchens, first, because they'd messed up his coffee so badly this morning that he'd even found a hair in it. When he burst into those big, fancy cafeterias with their circular tables instead of picnic bench ones.

   He took one look around at the shocked corporate higher-ups faces, watched as wine glasses hit the ground and waiters stopped dead in their tracks to face this guest without a reservation. But lets be real, even if he wasn't a huge snake demon, they probably would've reacted the same. He was rather popular. In his mind, at least.

   "I've got a brand new sale for all of you, fresh from the catalogs. You can keep your lives, for all of the money you have in your pockets. Cash, credit, whatever it is, hand it over and I won't take your head off your body as collateral."

   His hands pulled against the fake wood of the 'restaurant', leaving long lines as his presence announced itself even further with the flick of his body's tongue. Sure enough, even these big cheeses could be scared into submission. If CS himself were down there, he'd happily throw his entire wallet down in exchange.

   "Put it in a pile, I want to see a pile."

   His face's mouth continued it's 'polite' and 'cute' cat smile of his as he watched these once high and mighty people of the board just bow to his wimb because he had the body of a monster and a mind of a person.

* * *

   Perhaps he'd looked like a dragon, or a wyvern, or some other equal mythological creature. A goblin is what he would've looked like had it not been for the serpentine form he now had. He'd wrapped himself cleanly around his prizes, his hard work. What he'd gotten for working so hard. Wallets, cards, papers, heads, all fruits of his labor.

   His endless labor, his constant effort that he'd never been properly showered with praise until now. Sure, he'd get raises, he'd get certificates, but nothing like a literal money pile. No, nothing like a money pile or a body strong and fit to scare people into submission. He couldn't think of anything better to get money out of others, to convince them to hand over their belongings, than this.

   CS's desire for more only heightened as he stood still, his pile seeming smaller and smaller the larger and larger his time in this higher form grew. A growl pursed from a spotty throat as he scaled down and over to the center's computer systems. The buttons were smaller now, and he was having a harder time understanding what they were for.

   His memory snapped in and out as it was just replaced first a foremost with his want for more and more. He dragged his nails along keys and buttons before making his way back to the elevator's he'd come up from. His attempts to stuff himself in there were only somewhat successful, as only a quarter of himself still laid outside the doors.

   But he was still clever. The slit of his body's mouth opened along his chest then down across more of him, and he pushed parts of himself into his own mouth to reduce the space he'd taken up already. Using this, he managed to fit, and then traverse down into the levels he'd come from.

   Apparently, though, some were expecting him. As soon as those doors slid open, and his black mass forced itself out, a barrage of electrical sparks covered him. Because what else would he be attacked with by people who feared him. Bullets? Fists? Don't even try. They'd brought out the big guns; literal Krackos to shoot bolts of lightning directly at his body.

   Amongst those Krackos were security officers, Air Riders (minus their machines), and a Galbo.

   CS would play their game. He squirmed and writhed out of the elevator and into the hall, showing himself to be effected by their shocks as best he could as he moved closer to his attackers. But what CS's money-centric mind hadn't accounted for was that when they'd finished electrocuting him, Galbo would hop forward and burn every single part of him.

   Which is what they did.

   And his face burned.

   So of course he wailed and screeched, because his skin was literally burning off down to the muscle, and he couldn't get out of the flamethrower. Well, not without moving forward. Thankfully for him, some sort of sixth sense had added itself onto him. He could see the Galbo, the Krackos, whilst engulfed in fire and agony.

   So, with claws outstretched and a stomach literally open and ready, he pushed through the fire to the other sides, much to the nausea of those who saw what remained of his old form in still burning chunks and quickly shriveling skin. The air smelt of it, that and burnt hair. As he'd opened his longer mouth, the smell of rot poisoned it further, causing gags from those who stood to watch the Galbo be constricted then consumed infront of their eyes.

   The Krackos tried their tasering, but CS was having none of it. Galbo's failed attempts to burn him in parts already black and seemingly invulnerable were cut fortunately short by its entire body, starting from the inside, being sucked up like a mosquito taking blood from someone. Except this mosquito liked the skin too, so it left a big hole wherever it went.

   As he'd busied himself with that, the few Air Riders that had flamethrowers took note of CS's extraordinarily obvious weakspot, and exploited it by further blasting him with heat.

   "You think you can fire me!? I'm the best thing to happen to this place!! I do everything, you're all worthless and replaceable! I could get rid of Nightmare if I wanted! You're nothing compare to me!"

   CS wasn't watching himself as he said that, speaking his boss's real name like it'd have no consequence on his luck in the future. Yeah, no, it's not like saying that name was as good as spitting in Death's food right infront of them. That's not even mentioning the context he said it in either. Oh boy. That's something future him can worry about, if he even had to worry at all.

   Nightmare was lazy and soft anyways, it probably wouldn't be anything. And if it was something, CS could just fight him. Not like it'd be hard, in this new form. This new form where he could cut through Air Riders like paper with just his hands, stuff Krackos into his mouth like cotton candy, and dominate the competition with blood and bones in his wake. Well.

   Uh. No bones. And basically next to no blood either, but it was the thought that counts.

   Y'know what also counted? The wallets he'd managed to find in the remains of the Air Riders. He got like, ten of them. Sweet.

* * *

   A ringing alarm clock was met with a steel fist that crunched it into nothing. eNeMeE was, of course, sleeping in an extremely normal bed. Because big blanket wizards slept in human-inspired beds. Why would they sleep in anything else? That's ridiculous.

   Big blanket hissed and rubbed at his eye mask before flipping it off to reveal.. Well, something, probably. The entire room was pitch black, so it's not like anyone could see what was under there unless they had night vision or something. This darkness did him some fault too, as he searched around for his glasses he'd put on his gigantic nightstand.

   Without knocking them off (a normal problem), he'd grasped his anime glasses, put them on, adjusted them, and was up out of bed. With a clap of his hands, the lights turned on, lighting up his royally decorated bedroom, large enough for a king. Well, he wasn't a king. He was the capitalist emperor of the universe, but he was humble enough to just have a room fit for a king.

   He did a couple of hand stretches before snickering to himself like a demented schoolgirl over last night's endeavors. As he mused with himself, he spawned a mirror to check out his teeth, despawned it, then left his bedroom out into the hallway.

   And just as he got out, there was already someone who wanted his attention. He didn't even bother to look down at who spoke, he'd already envisioned what this person was probably looked like in his mind.

   "Sir! U-Uh, there's a situation, we need your permission to use the Wolfwr-" The voice was nasally and pathetic.

   "Ugh, you people. Seriously. I don't care if there's a situation, if you want to use the dogs then use the dogs. Or ask the midget boy in the.."

   He racked his brain for the word momentarily. He couldn't find it.

   "The midget guy who looks like me. Whats his name. You know him. Midget. Wears blue. Looks like me. Glasses."

   "T-That's the problem!"

   "Oh please, like midget guy would ever cut a person in an elementary school lunch line, much less be an actual problem."

   eNeMeE waved it off simply enough as he grasped onto his starry cloak. Whatever blithering idiot who wanted his attention so desperately seemed to be squabbling trying to say something right as he teleported away, into the place he usually chilled.

   Stars, he really could not remember the place's name. He just would loom over midget guy in here, watching what he did. Or he didn't. Either or.

   But it seems like he must've miscalculated his teleport, because this room was somewhat different than the one he'd watch his employee slave from. In this room there was a pile of money and leather, and a distinct smell of raw flesh.

   That, and there was a huge, four-armed snakebeast coiled around this mountain of wealth, its large humanoid hands clutching to its riches like no one's business. eNeMeE even hazarded a guess to say that if it stood on the end of it's tail, it was maybe ten feet tall. He would've questioned how it managed to get into the room, but the gigantic hole in the window said enough.

   The lack of midgets in this room told eNeMeE one thing. Well, two things. One, he could've teleported to the wrong room. Two. Midget guy was dead and this snake killed him. Admittingly, one of those two things made his nonexistent blood boil much more than the other.

   He cracked his neck, then his knuckles, getting the snake's attention on him. Its face.

   Long strips of exposed, burnt muscle that'd clearly been cauterized, a face of glassy box-like eyes probably made of real glass, ontop of a asphyxiated looking blue-tinged skin which contrasted greatly against the patchy blacks and reds. But oh man, that mouth. Little cat mouth. Very distinct little cat mouth. As well as the chin. Those two things were able to tip the wizard off enough to know what exactly this was.

   Sort of.

   Not really.

   It shifted along its pile to face him fully, a mouth along its underside flaring and showing itself to him as if it was some sort of threat. The wizard wrinkled his nose like an angry rat staring at this odd abomination.

   "I do everything, I do everything around here! So I'll have everything, even your magic!"

   It's voice sounded like some sort of mock of CS's, more garbled, like it was being run through a potato before coming out of his throat. Just as quickly as it spoke, it flung itself into action with a strike against him. Outstretched foreclaws that tried to cling to the wizard's pauldrons, or whatever sort of hold he could find.

   Not that one's ever going to find out what this snake was going for, because eNeMeE was prepared greatly for this attack. He'd drawn his open palm during the small speech, and once the monster's face was close enough, he swung across it with a mighty thunderous clap. The slap was enough to break bones, perhaps eviscerate bodies entirely. So when the snake monster's body was sent forcefully off it's cute little pile of money and into a wall where after hitting it twitched and shrank, it didn't surprise him whatsoever. From it's broken head drained out a purple, sparkling liquid that pooled and sat in large amounts.

   The process from there was widely very.. Well, it seems to be quick. eNeMeE wouldn't know if it was painful or painless, he didn't really care either, all he did was watch as that big snake deformed and turned into little midget guy. The limbs had just gone back into his body, and the black skin coloration just blurred away. The tail became purple feet.

   With a bit of a heal, dude was fine, back onto his toes, if disoriented and in need of pharmaceutical assistance.

   "Do you do that all the time or did you just feel like being a weird snake freak while I was asleep, thinking I wouldn't notice?"

   The wizard asked, putting his hands back to himself as CS (who'd somehow managed to retain his suit after transforming back) just sort of looked around, rubbing at his arms and torso with one of his hands to make sure he was all there.

   "Like, do it in your offtime. Me being asleep isn't your offtime. You still have to do stuff, y'know. Like, not as a snake. You have to be a midget guy. It's weird otherwise."

   CS rubbed at his face next, pushing at his glasses and touching the parts inparticular which'd been injured before eNeMeE so generously healed him.

   "For trying to attack me, I'd fire you," CS's attention was certainly grabbed by that, "but I like you. Well, like, in a you're important sort of way, don't get me wrong. So, I think I'm just going to put you into the fear box with uh.. What's his name."

   "'Hellman', sir."

   CS mumbled as he just stared up at his boss, like he was waiting for something to happen.

   "Yeah, yeah, Hellman. You two can have some great fun in the box together. Seeing your worst fears for a couple of hours can be like, a team building exercise. I think that's what they call it."

   "Of course."

   He submitted, his voice sounding rather parched. Though the big wizard couldn't see it from his height, behind the salesman's back were some rather interesting singular set of black, inky claws. Ones which closed into a determined fist.  



End file.
